I Can Explain
by A Ginger
Summary: Companion series to "Keeping Close"! What happens after Dean and Cas hook up? Well, Dean is dead-set on keeping it a secret from Sam - which we all know will work out wonderfully - but Cas seems more than happy to let Sam discover them. Smut!
1. Hit or Kiss

_**A/N: After a fair share of requests, here is the companion series(?) to Keeping Close! It isn't exactly necessary to read Keeping Close to understand all of this, but I'm afraid you might miss some of the particulars without first having read it. :]**_

_**p.s. I'm admittedly a bit confused with how this fic corresponds to the canon plotline, but I've tried to do my research correctly. So just try to ignore the particulars (they drive me nuts) and enjoy the fic! **_

_**~o~**_

**Chapter One: Hit or Kiss**

Sam would never live this one down. Dean and Bobby were making that painfully clear. It wasn't like he had _intended_ to get sent flying through a wall and down a well-shaft. That damn ghost was sneaky! Even so, Sam admitted (only to himself) that maybe he could have been a little more careful. It definitely would have helped his situation with Dean, given that his older brother wasn't exactly being sympathetic toward his current invalid status. Since coming back to work alongside his brother, things between them were strained. Sam remembered the almost effortless manner in which they had functioned before – before he got killed and Dean traded his soul. That was the axis point that changed everything. Over the months, once Sam met Ruby and crept towards the "dark side," there was a shift. Sam couldn't determine an exact event that pushed them apart (there were honestly too many to count), but it was as if one day, he looked up and his brother was a stranger to him.

_Now_, what with his recent tumble through a farmhouse wall which resulted in a sprained ankle _and_ a slight concussion, Sam had plenty of time to sort out he and his brother's relationship. Since their reunion after Sam's volunteered holiday, there was clearly something different about Dean. Sam could see it in the way his brother talked and behaved, even in the way he moved. If they were the sort of people for it, Sam would have accused Dean of falling in love while he was away. According to the silver screen, Dean was showing all the symptoms of being deeply infatuated. It was a ludicrous concept; Dean had never been in love nor did he ever show signs of _wanting_ to be. Sam's brother was a simple guy with even more basic desires (when it came to sex, anyway).

Sam could hear Bobby knocking around in his study downstairs. He fidgeted, trying to get more comfortable on the creaky old mattress in Bobby's spare room. It was nearly two in the afternoon. He only noted the time because Dean was supposed to have returned with lunch an hour ago. Sam wasn't anxious over Dean's absence because of his own hunger, but really he was worried. He didn't like the thought of Dean being out on his own, for obvious reasons.

The sound of someone coming up the stairs broke Sam from his thoughts and sent his heart into an absurd hammering. When none other than Dean entered the room, Sam had his hand around a knife.

"Plannin' on gutting me, gimpy?" Dean said around a mouth full of cheeseburger. He rolled his eyes and tossed a grease-stained bag of food onto Sam's stomach.

Sam tucked the knife back under his pillow. "Uh, plannin' on giving me a heart condition?" he said, peeking into the bag. He lifted out a massive hamburger that weighed at least a full pound.

"What? It's got all the major food groups," Dean objected. "You've got your bread, protein, dairy, vegetables. Oh, and bacon."

"Okay I know you're a drop-out and everything, but newsflash: bacon is_ not_ a food group." Sam peeled off the four strips of bacon and a majority of the cheese before taking a tentative bite.

Dean only rolled his eyes again and sat down at the cluttered desk pushed against the wall, after stealing Sam's bacon, of course. He finished off his own burger and clapped his hands together to knock off the sesame seeds. "How's the leg?"

Sam shrugged. "Fine. Bobby thinks it should be healed by the end of the week. The sprain wasn't that bad. The concussion was the real problem."

"Good, good." Dean ran a hand over his face, seemingly bored now that his bacon cheeseburger was no more.

"So, mind telling me why it took you so long with the food? You've been gone, like, two hours. Did something happen?"

Dean looked up as if he hadn't caught what Sam had said. Why was he so distracted? "Huh? Oh, no, everything's fine. I was just, uh, tryin' to get ahold of Cas."

"He's _still_ not answering his phone?"

"Bingo."

It wasn't unlike Castiel to go off on his own little angel missions – namely, his quest to find God. This wasn't the first time that they'd gone several weeks without hearing a word from him, which in Sam's opinion was a good thing; Cas had a habit for being the bearer of bad news. But for some reason, this particular lapse in contact was getting to Dean. Even though Dean's attitude had been lately improved, Sam could see a dip in his brother's mood whenever Castiel was mentioned. What had happened while Dean was working alone? He'd mentioned that Cas helped him out with a coven of vampires up in Oakland County, but aside from that, nothing appeared amiss to Sam. And knowing Dean, even if something truly terrible and horrific had happened while they were apart, Dean wouldn't be telling Sam any time soon, if only to avoid a conversation about anything real. _This damn guy and his feelings_, Sam thought, _you'd think that after wendigos, poltergeists, and friggin' _Lucifer_, he'd be a little less afraid of telling me what's really happening in his head._

After teasing Sam appropriately for his injury, Dean stood and said that he was going to go out back and work on the Impala. He made sure that Sam had taken his pain killers and instructed his little brother to get some sleep because he _badly_ wanted to be back on the road. Sam had a sneaking suspicion, as he watched Dean leave, that the only appeal that the road held was a distraction. A distraction to _what, _he didn't know.

~o~

Only after setting himself up with all of his tools, Dean admitted to himself that the Impala was uncharacteristically in perfect repair and in need of no tinkering. It was a disappointing discovery, because he was begging for something to do with himself. Cabin fever was setting in.

All this time to himself was leading to too much thinking and one too many dumb decisions.

Dean hadn't told Sam what he'd _really_ been doing for so long in town, aside from leaving three messages in Castiel's inbox. In fact, he'd sort of skirted the question. But in complete honesty, Dean had gone into town that day looking for sex. Okay, normally he would have just owned up to it (actually he would have bragged), but this time was different.

Dean had sex with a guy. In town. In the back of some dusty little book shop. He couldn't even remember the guy's _name_.

It was a stupid impulse, something that he'd known he would regret and now did. At the time, though, it had seemed so _right_. He'd gone into the shop after seeing the cashier in the window. The guy was obviously gay; Dean could tell that at a first glance, even despite his pitiful "gay-dar." The way the cashier's dark hair sort of stuck up at odd angles, falling in just a few strands across his forehead, it had made Dean change course and enter the shop without a second thought. It was like he'd recognized someone he knew, but obviously that was impossible. Last time he checked, Castiel had never worked in a book shop.

~o~

"Oy, idgit! There's someone here to see ya!"

Dean looked up from the engine of Bobby's truck – after almost pleading with the old hunter to give him something to do, Bobby had conceded to let Dean do some work on it. "Huh?" he said, wiping the back of his hand absently across his cheek, leaving behind a thick grease stain.

Bobby scoffed at him and wheeled himself back inside, letting the door hang open as Dean's cue to follow him.

Dean set his tools down on the rag slung over the edge of the hood. He realized as he glanced up at the sky that the clouds were growing pink. Somehow he'd managed to kill another day.

The inside of the house was quiet, not that Bobby's house was ever particularly loud. This stillness was unique, though. It made Dean think something was wrong. It was the same type of silence he remembered from the nights that John would return late from a hunt with a subdued sort of terror in his eyes. The memory sent the back of his neck into apprehensive tingles and itches.

Bobby was sitting in his chair on the edge of the kitchen, facing his study. There was a set, hard look on his face and a certain white-knuckle way that he was gripping the armrests of his chair.

"Bobby, what's—?"

Dean halted just inside of the door of the kitchen as if he'd been doused in cold water.

"Hello, Dean." It was Castiel.

The angel looked characteristically composed and tranquil, despite the fact that he was covered in dirt and what look like blood. His trench coat was torn in places, and his tie was gone completely. Despite his hair always having an Einstein-esque quality, it was especially ruffled. Castiel seemed not to notice any of this.

"Wh—what _happened_?" Dean felt the gears in his brain halt and stutter, much like the very same engine he'd just been repairing. He glanced wildly around the room, noticing only then that Sam was sitting at Bobby's desk, his bad foot propped up on a chair. Sam's expression wasn't giving any clues, and so Dean returned his attention directly back to Cas.

"I am sorry for not returning your phone calls. I still cannot figure out how to listen to 'voice mail messages'," Castiel began. "I was in the midst of searching for my Father, and along the way I ran into some-," he looked down at himself, as if only then noticing that he looked like a hobo, "-trouble."

Dean crossed his arms. Where did this angel get off ignoring him for almost three weeks only to show up _now_ looking like something that had crawled out of a storm drain?

"Well did you find Him?" Sam said, breaking the illusion that Dean and Cas were alone in the room.

What could have passed as a smirk crossed Castiel's face. "If I had found my Father, you and your brother would have been the first to know." He looked back to Dean, a sort of electric current running through them and making them utterly aware of the other. For the briefest moment, Dean feared that Castiel would say something to blow their cover; more than anything he did _not_ want Sam or Bobby to know about what had happened back in Oakland County. It had to remain a secret. Dean didn't think he could bear the mortification of listening to Sam get his jollies out of taunting him. As for Bobby, well, Dean had the sneaking suspicion that the old hunter would be more than a little uncomfortable with the thought of man-on-man/angel sex.

Luckily, Bobby cut in before Cas could say anything else.

"Mind cleanin' yourself up, there? You're drippin' God-only-knows-what all over my damn rug." Bobby wheeled himself around and went into the kitchen for a beer.

Castiel looked down at himself again, making a displeased face. "Yes, maybe I should clean up," he said. When he looked back up, his clothes were totally clean, as if they'd never been dirty. Dean blinked several times, trying to sort out if he'd ever even seen the angel looking muddy to begin with.

"Neat trick," Sam said, chuckling.

Castiel looked over his shoulder at the younger Winchester. "Thank you. I am sorry about your leg. If I still had my powers of Grace, I would be able to heal it for you."

Sam shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I'm good. Dean's been getting antsy, though. And by antsy I mean bitchy. Anything you can do for _that_?" He smirked at Dean, who was rubbing at his forehead, suddenly aware of the grease stain there.

Dean paused, catching Castiel's eye. A smirk tugged the corner of his mouth which he quickly brushed aside; he was still annoyed at the angel, after all.

"I don't know about that," Castiel said.

"Cas, come outside with me, will ya?" Dean said. "I've gotta finish up Bobby's truck but there's something I wanna talk to you about."

Cas moved to follow him outside when Sam called after them. "Aw come on!" he said. "Don't tell him anything important!"

"Cool your jets, Sammy. _You're_ supposed to be sleeping, anyway." He felt a little too much like an over-bearing mother upon saying this, but he shook it off and stepped outside.

"I am glad to see that you're safe," Castiel said. He stood close behind Dean as he made a show of rearranging his tools. Every nerve in Dean's brain was telling him to turn around and either hit Cas or kiss him; hit him because he'd disappeared off the face of the earth and strolled right back in like a stray cat, or kiss him because, well, it was _Cas_, the subject of way too many fantasies and lost hours of sleep over the past few days.

Dean wiped a rag over his hands, chuckling. There were a dozen things going through his head that he wanted to say, but he fished out the simplest one.

"You're a dick."

That made Cas withdraw somewhat. "If you are angry at my absence, I assure you it was necessary."

"And exactly what sort of _trouble_ did you run into?" Dean said, facing Castiel. The sun was setting quickly now, and Dean took a moment's reassurance in the fact that they couldn't be seen from the house.

Castiel seemed almost saddened by the response. "I crossed paths with one of Heaven's messengers. He was not very pleased with me at my disobediences. I had to fight to get away and avoid being sent elsewhere."

_That_, Dean could almost understand. He knew messed-up family lives enough to empathize with a guy who was facing the pissiest relatives in the universe, and Castiel's case was at the very far end of extreme. Keeping this in mind, Dean managed to look the least bit sorry for him.

"You're alright, though?" he said.

Castiel nodded, smiling softly. "Yes. Better, now, in fact." His hand brushed Dean's as he nonchalantly reached out to touch one of the engine parts. The truck fired into life, running as if it were brand new, despite the several key components to its mechanics lying on the ground.

Dean jumped back from the vehicle, startled. "What the hell?"

"I fixed it for you. Now may we go somewhere more private to talk?"

For a nerdy, angelic bank accountant with serious social issues, Castiel knew how to get Dean's attention. The man laughed, moving unconsciously closer to Cas, almost touching him. "I'd say it's pretty private out here," he said.

Castiel glanced around, seemingly in agreement. "I assume you have not told your brother what happened the last time you and I were together?"

Dean chuckled dryly, his hand going absently to the side of Castiel's face. The feel of familiar stubble was oddly reassuring. "No way. Sammy doesn't need to know everything about my sex life."

"And why not? He did before." Touché. Castiel raised a challenging eyebrow. It came across smug and haughty, with an unmistakable touch of really-friggin'-adorable.

Dean mentally noted himself to stop teaching Castiel new tricks; for being such an old dog, Cas kept taking him by surprise.

"Shut up," the man said. In one smooth movement he reached around the back of Castiel's head and brought him in for a deep kiss, almost groaning out loud at the relief of having Cas so close again.

They pressed flush against each other, hands working independently of thought to push aside any easily reachable layers of clothing to touch whatever skin they could find. The kiss was almost exactly like their first, in that it was desperate and sloppy, but neither man could call it anything but extraordinary. Dean was backed up against the far side of Bobby's truck as Castiel took on a hungrier determination. The engine on the truck shut off at once when the focus of Castiel's attention shifted _away_ from keeping it running and _toward_ making Dean as aroused as possible in the next several moments (it was working, Dean noted).

"Hey," Dean breathed, breaking the kiss. He put one hand to Castiel's chest to keep him just far away enough to allow for speech. "We can't do this right now, okay? Not exactly the best time or place."

Castiel looked for a moment like a child denied his favorite treat. "Why not? You said it yourself that this location is private enough."

"Yeah, well, even on a gimpy leg I wouldn't put it past Sammy to spy on us."

Castiel glanced over his shoulder as if expecting Sam to appear from behind the rusted barbeque or one of Bobby's junk cars. "Perhaps you're right," he said. "But what should I do about this?" Castiel took Dean's hand and pressed it against his own groin, where a considerable hard-on was well formed.

"_Damn_," Dean said, chuckling softly. "Now you're just makin' it difficult for me."

The angel leaned in to whisper in Dean's ear. "That is the plan." He kissed Dean's earlobe gently, and never before had Dean been so turned on by such a simple move. It was apparent to him then that if he didn't get Castiel in bed within the next hour, his dick would explode.

"So maybe we could—"

Castiel drew away, holding up one hand to cut Dean off. "No, you are right. Doing this now would only present ramifications for you later. I'll go now, if you'd like." He took several steps backwards and turned on his heel.

Dean had the sudden urge to kneecap Castiel and pin him to the ground._ Friggin' cock-tease angel douchebag._

"Oy! Get your lily ass back here!" Dean said as loudly as he dared. He caught Cas by the arm and dragged him unhindered toward the thick of Bobby's junk car forest.

"I take it you've missed me?" Castiel said, allowing himself to be led by the hand.

Dean scoffed and glanced over his shoulder. "What makes you think that?"

"The fact that you had anonymous sex with a book clerk today," Castiel replied as if he were commenting on the weather.

Dean nearly tripped over his own boots. He pulled Cas behind a rusted-out minivan. "You mean you _saw_ that?"

Castiel looked ready to burst into laughter. The way his mouth quirked into a smug grin made Dean want (in equal parts) to hit or kiss him again.

"Voyeurism is not one of my finer points," Cas said, "but I will admit I enjoyed watching it. I am an angel, Dean. We are by nature voyeuristic beings." He cocked his head to the side, watching Dean bite the inside of his cheek. "If you'd like to hit me, you may."

Dean became aware that his face was hot with embarrassment. It was absurd to be so flustered over being caught doing it with another guy, but it was the brash way in which Castiel talked about it that made Dean uneasy.

"I'm not gonna hit you," Dean said. "I'd pro'lly just break my hand, anyway. _But_, you do owe me for the spying thing."

Castiel raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Oh? And how shall I repay you?" he said, as if he couldn't figure it out on his own – Dean would be willing to bet he couldn't.

"On your knees," Dean said.

Without another word, Castiel gripped Dean by the shoulders and spun him around until the man's back hit the side of the mini-van. With Dean pressed squarely against the metal, Castiel moved down his body in a line of kisses and feather-light caresses. As he lowered himself onto his knees, he glanced up at Dean and the two smirked at each other. Dean wondered how much more of this it would take before some hole opened up in the ground labeled 'Heaven's Rejects' and swallowed Castiel whole. This sort of activity could not have been a good note toward Castiel's angel merit badges.

With deft, hasty hands, Castiel undid Dean's belt and loosened his pants. He slid the man's length out from his underwear, taking it into his hand and running one thumb over the tip while the rest of his fingers kneaded against the shaft. Dean grunted, closing his eyes. Blindly he felt Castiel tease his cock with his hands, using the precum as a lubricant. When Dean sensed that Castiel's lips were half an inch from taking him in, he forced himself to open his eyes. He couldn't miss the irony of having an _angel_ on his knees before him, but decided not to venture down the road of any wanna-be God fantasies.

"I still don't know how you have sex better than you operate a cell phone," Dean said on the end of a chuckle. Castiel shot him a half-hearted glare. To compensate, Dean ran his fingers through the angel's ruffled hair as tenderly as he could. It seemed to placate him.

The first swipe of Castiel's tongue along the underside of his shaft made Dean grit his teeth against a sudden outcry of pleasure. Even so far from the house, echoes were still a problem. Castiel seemed to notice Dean's caution and chose to exploit it as much as he could. Languidly, the angel engulfed Dean's length in several licks and swirls of his tongue around the head. He dragged on the taunting pleasure until Dean was forced to tug on his hair, giving him an '_if there is any mercy in your heart, put my dick in your mouth __**now**__'_ type of look.

Chuckling under his breath before he did so, Castiel slid Dean's cock into his mouth.


	2. I've Been Expecting You

_**A/N: Just a helpful hint: if you are in the midst of writing Supernatural slash-fiction, do **__**not**__** go on YouTube and watch ample amounts of videos featuring the actor who plays the subject of said slash-fiction. I am now under paranoid, mortal terror that Misha Collins will find this story and someday weave it in to snappy, witty jokes at the next convention.**_

_**With that in mind, I'd just like to add that the demons are making me do this.**_

_**Without further ado… **_

_**~o~**_

**Chapter Two: I've been expecting you…**

Bobby said good-night at quarter to ten. Although he hadn't said it, he'd been waiting for Dean to return. Despite all of the assertions that Castiel was one-hundred percent "on their side," there was clearly a part of Bobby that was waiting for Cas to turn into a back-stabbing douche bag with wings. When he was finally unable to wait up any longer, Bobby rolled himself to his room with several heavy books in his lap, leaving Sam alone in the library.

Sam knew he should drag himself back upstairs and go to bed. He'd spent the better part of the last few hours just sitting in Bobby's library leafing through books or doodling on a pad of paper. By the time he'd drawn a full-page doodle war between two stick-man representations of himself and Dean versus at least twenty stick-man demons and a few dick-wad angels, Sam had _expected_ Dean to return. How long did it take to fix a truck that wasn't even that run down, anyway? Even if Dean _wasn't_ fixing the truck, then there's no way that he and Cas could have so much to say to each other. Castiel was a man of little words on a _good_ day, and judging by his harassed appearance earlier, today was definitely not good for him.

For the third time, Sam tried phoning Dean; it went to voicemail after ringing itself out. It was likely that Dean had left his cell phone in his duffle or in the car, but Sam kept trying in the hopes that he'd answer.

They were probably on some secret Heaven mission. The thought was one that Sam didn't want to admit, but after so long he couldn't find any other solution. Cas seemed to drag Dean out on those a lot, always leaving Sam behind. Given that he was currently out of commission (and not exactly on the angel's top five), Sam wouldn't blame Castiel for passing over him if he needed help with something, but he'd _still_ like to be informed.

Sam had already strung together a miraculous, fabricated adventure that Dean and Cas were embarking on when he the front door opened.

"You still up, Sammy? I told you to get your ass to bed."

Dean took off his jacket, tossing it into Bobby's good armchair. He then yanked off his boots and fell into the cot by the window, looking utterly content to just fall asleep.

Sam looked at him expectantly, having no intentions of going _anywhere_. "Dude? Explanation?"

"For _what_?" Dean grumbled from beneath the arm he'd slung over his face.

"How about you start with where you've been for the last several hours? Or maybe you could tell me why you haven't been answering _any_ of your phones?"

Dean groaned, sitting up. He was making it clear that he wasn't in the mood for an interrogation, but Sam wasn't going to let up. "Since when do I need your permission to skip out and grab a beer?"

"Uh, since the start of the apocalypse?" Sam replied. "Come on, Dean, I know when you're lying. You can't expect me to believe you went to a _bar_. Where did Cas take you?"

Dean cocked an eyebrow. "Cas? Who said anything about Cas?"

"He showed up here today looking like he got into a fight with a hedge trimmer. Then the two of you just disappeared out back for a nice little chat and don't return for hours later? Just tell me, Dean! I'm sick of you keeping secrets all the time." Sam knew he was being what Dean would call "girlish," but he had to say it. They'd been growing more distant lately, despite the circumstances that were making it perfectly clear they'd never be able to part from each other. If they were going to take on Heaven _and_ Hell, they would have to start with being honest with each other. Sam ignored his relationship with Ruby and all of the secrets involved (for the time being).

Dean scoffed, clearly unamused and not open for discussion. "I don't keep any secrets from you, man. You're with me all the frickin' time. I don't _have_ secrets anymore."

Sam crossed his arms. He stared hard at Dean for a moment, acknowledging that this might be true, but there was still the overwhelming sense that something was going on. There was a certain glint in Dean's eye, the same glint that he'd seen the past few days. Even though Dean looked exhausted and maybe just a little drunk, Sam could tell he was only angry on the surface. Beneath it all, he looked – well – happy. That observation made Sam more irritated than ever.

"Fine, Dean, whatever." Sam waved his hands, signaling that he was washing himself of the matter; he was too tired to deal with it, anyway. From the edge of Bobby's desk he grabbed the crutch that he was forced to use and pulled himself to his feet. His ankle twinged uncomfortably but it was definitely improved. Sam hoped that they'd be able to leave soon. Maybe he was starting to feel a little stir-crazy himself. "Night," he said gruffly, hobbling toward the stairs. He could feel Dean's eyes on his back and kept waiting for his brother to say something, but he didn't. Dean just watched Sam leave in silence. The only sign that Dean even noticed he was gone was the heavy groaning of the mattress springs as Dean laid back down.

**~o~**

"You should tell your brother."

Dean jerked awake, sitting up so quickly that he nearly head-butted the wide-eyed angel staring down at him.

"Cas! Damn it, don't _do that_." Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. "You look like that creature from Lord of the Rings when you do that."

"I do not understand that reference. What 'Lord' are you refer—"

Dean waved his hand. "Never mind, just…never mind." He could only see Castiel's face outlined in moonlight. It must have been close to three in the morning. With a note of surprise, Dean realized he'd actually slept soundly. Until Cas showed up, anyway.

"I apologize for waking you," Castiel said, a noticeable (and appreciated) hush to his voice. The shift in volume made his voice even deeper. "I was going to wait until morning to speak with you, but I decided that would not be best."

Dean's eyes already felt heavy again. He nodded once and collapsed back into bed. "So what do you need to talk about, Cas?" he said. There was just enough softness in his voice to imply that he wasn't annoyed by Castiel's appearance, just exhausted.

A noise like a chuckle escaped the angel. "It appears I wore you out today." The implications behind that statement were downright sinful.

"Well don't sound so damn proud of yourself." Dean couldn't help but chuckle, too. He opened his weary eyes, looking up at Cas. The way that he was leaning just slightly over him, it looked like Castiel was trying his best to keep his hands to himself. Dean wasn't so inclined to behave himself. He reached up and pulled Cas in with a fistful of his tie. Their lips met, and it was becoming such a familiar sensation to Dean that he didn't even question himself. His thoughts were dragged back to earlier that day, the hours they'd spent together. A grin appeared on his face.

Castiel pulled away, looking at Dean's mouth. "Why are you smiling like that?" he said.

Dean shrugged. "Dunno. Just thinkin' about, y'know, today."

Cas chuckled again. "Yes it was quite the experience. I have wanted to try what you did to me against the wall for some time now, but have never had the occasion."

What he meant was, _I've always had a secret desire to be screwed against the wall by some guy's dick. Just so happened that guy was you, Dean_. _So, awesome_. At least, that's what Dean's internal Cas-to-English translator said.

"Let's just hope Sammy doesn't find the receipt from that motel," Dean said out of the corner of his mouth. He sighed at looked back to Castiel. "Do you really think I oughta tell him?"

Castiel nodded definitively. "Yes. He is only going to grow more suspicious about where you were today, and the longer he has to contemplate it, the worse his speculations are going to get. Odds are, he already knows I am in love with you, and it is not a far jump to suppose that you love me as well."

Oh. Really. Dean blinked several times. Nowhere in their copious amounts of sex that day had the word 'love' entered in.

Castiel withdrew slightly when Dean continued to look confused. "Oh. Is that not the case?"

Dean opened his mouth once and closed it again.

"Are you suggesting I'm _obvious_?" Dean finally said. His brow raised in a form of challenge. He looked just playful enough to be reassuring.

Castiel gave his answer to the ceiling. "It has been said that you are over-compensating for something. What that something may be, I of course have no idea."

"Huhn," Dean snorted. He pulled Castiel in by his tie again. His expression was mockingly serious and he could detect nothing but amusement on Castiel's face. It was weird, acting like this. Dean had never been inclined toward cute, couple-type banter. The absence of opportunity could have been the leading reason, but really Dean knew he'd never _wanted_ to just lie in bed with some girl before. Okay, maybe Lisa was an exception to that. If Dean had a normal life, he'd be with Lisa (and Ben) living the apple-pie routine. But since there was no way he'd ever see that life, he had Castiel; Dean didn't consider himself at a loss.

Castiel shifted above Dean, moving his whole body closer. He was almost lying next to Dean now, but the old cot was groaning in protest. Suddenly Dean longed to be upstairs in the spare room where he could have the luxury of a stable bed and a door that locked.

"Dean," the angel said softly. He touched Dean's face, lightly, making him shiver slightly. "I should go. You need your rest."

"No," Dean said like a stubborn child.

"But—"

"I sleep better when you're here, remember?" Dean betrayed a small smile. His hard grip on Castiel's tie loosened, giving the angel the allowance to leave but also the choice to stay. Cas just stared at him.

Having made up his mind, Castiel stood and went toward the door. Dean's heart sank momentarily with the thought of facing another night alone. But just before the door, Cas stopped and let his trench coat slide off. He placed the coat on Bobby's armchair, right over Dean's own jacket. Castiel then returned to the cot and eased himself beside Dean as the man moved over to allow him room.

"You understand that if Sam or Bobby find us here like this, we will be in what you call 'deep shit'?" Castiel rested his head so effortlessly on Dean's shoulder that the hunter wondered (not for the first time) if Cas was really so much of a virgin as he claimed.

"Well Bobby gets up pretty early most days, but Sam will be asleep till noon if he took his pain killers." Dean sighed contentedly and relaxed, letting his eyes slip closed. The feeling of Castiel's breath on his neck was better than any sleep aid.

There was a slight creaking of springs. Dean sensed that Cas had craned his neck up to look at him. Why did his skin get immediately so warm whenever he knew Cas was watching him? Thinking back on it now, Dean realized how conscious he'd always been of Castiel's presence.

"I will leave after you've fallen asleep," Castiel said.

Dean was already out. But it wasn't one of his usual half-asleep states; he was really and truly asleep. There wasn't even a worried crease between his eyebrows.

Castiel smiled again, putting one hand to Dean's chest. There was a slow, steady beating there. It was rhythmical and soothing to the angel, and so he laid there for some time just turning over in his mind all of the things that Dean Winchester had done to his life. Betrayal to Heaven was no longer the first thing that Castiel associated with Dean. Really it never was, but there was an unavoidable connotation to Dean and Castiel's recent disobediences. But now as Castiel lay beside Dean, Heaven didn't enter his head at all. He recalled the day's events, starting with his decision to visit Dean and ending with their rather comfortable position there on the cot.

In truth, Castiel had planned to avoid Dean as long as possible. He thought that their connection was something faulty or breakable, and he was certain upon coming to Bobby's that day that Dean would pretend as if they'd never done anything more than fight vampires back in Oakland County.

Looking up at the sleeping hunter now, Castiel felt warmth beneath his skin. Maybe this was love, or perhaps in was lust in disguise. Either way, Castiel had no intention of staying away from Dean any longer than he needed to.

When the sun began peeking up from behind the horizon, Castiel untangled himself from Dean's arms. He leaned in to kiss the man's forehead with the unspoken promise of his return later that day.

There was the sound of wheelchair wheels on the hardwood floor just as Castiel was pulling on his trench coat.

Bobby came out into the library, seeing only Dean asleep on the cot. He got the sense, however, that something in his house was different. Glancing at Dean again, Bobby noticed the way his arms were positioned, as if someone had recently been lying in his grasp.

**~o~**

_**A/N: Just want to say thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! You're all so great and my ego is swelling up with all of the awesome compliments I've gotten. You rock. All I'm gonna say. Oh, just kidding. Also wanted to mention that I **__**do**__** read and reply to all/most of your reviews! So those of you who have given great feedback, definitely check your inboxes/emails because you'll most likely find a response from me.**_


	3. A Traitor in our Midst

_**A/N: Nothin' to say other than: sorry sorry sorry for taking so long! Heh… To make up for it, enjoy this extra-special loooong chapter :D**_

**~o~**

**Chapter Three: A Traitor in Our Midst**

It was as if a small cat had decided to lodge itself in the back of Dean's throat and make its fuzzy self nice and comfortable there. He tried for the first drowsy moments of the next day to swallow back the dry sensation, but it was persistent. Waking up with that feeling in his throat was evidence of deep sleep, and it was only several minutes later as he sat up that he remembered he'd fallen asleep with Castiel in his arms. It was funny that he could casually forget something so pleasant; maybe he was already too accustomed to Cas' presence.

"Mornin', Sleeping Beauty," said Bobby's gruff voice from the next room. Dean went to the kitchen, where Bobby was pulled up to the table with a plate of eggs.

"Mornin'," Dean replied. He rubbed his left eye, glancing with his right around the kitchen. The microwave clock said 7:40 in dim green numerals.

Bobby was eyeing Dean with what could be called close examination. Like he was looking for something in Dean's face that he wasn't finding.

"Problem, officer?" Dean said, narrowing his eyes at Bobby in a mockery of the old hunter's expression.

Bobby sighed, shaking his head. "You alright, boy?"

"I'm a little sore from sleepin' on that damn cot all week, but yeah."

"S'not what I mean." Bobby rubbed his fingertips over the scraggly ends of his beard. "You've been actin' strange the whole time you've been here, like there's somethin' going on that you ain't talking about. Then yesterday what with Castiel showin' up like he did, I'm wondering if you're leavin' me out of the loop for a reason or if you just like screwin' around with me." His gaze grew stern; this was the same look that Dean's father, John, had perfected in his lifetime, and Dean knew it very well. It meant that Bobby _knew_. _What_ exactly he knew was a variable, and honestly, Dean didn't couldn't be sure if he'd been discovered. A chill traveled down his spine. The longer Bobby looked at him, the more certain he became that his sexual exploits with Cas had been discovered.

"Bobby," Dean said with a heavy sigh, "you know me, man. If there was something going on that you _needed_ to know, I'd tell yah. Trust me, there ain't nothin' going on."

The older man grunted. He looked down at his hands clasped in his lap for a moment. Dean could see the gears turning just beneath Bobby's trucker cap.

"Fine, boy, I believe yah," Bobby said. "Well, I _don't_, really, but I know better than to try and fight you on it. But do me a favor, huh?"

Dean nodded once. "Sure, Bobby."

Bobby looked up at him. His words were cautious and carefully chosen. "Whatever might be goin' on with you and that angel, it's got Sam worried sick." Dean made a noise as if to interrupt, but Bobby held up a hand to keep him quiet. "Do you think I'm an idgit, boy? My room's just down the hall. Even if I _hadn't_ heard your little midnight rendezvous last night, the way you and angel-boy were lookin' at each other yesterday, well…" Bobby paused to shake his head. From the chest pocket of his flannel he removed a small flask and downed a brief sip.

"B-Bobby…I-I don't…So you…" Dean blinked like he was trying to get water out of his eyes. If he was understanding this correctly, then Bobby already _knew_ that he and Cas were…well, what _were_ they, anyway?

Bobby held up his hand again, waving it weakly. "Yeah, Dean, I _know_."

Dean leaned back in his chair. Even though Bobby was pretty open-minded (no one who fights demons for a living can have narrow horizons, anyway), Dean had expected something…not so anti-climactic. So Bobby knew, then.

"Not to mention the fact that Castiel was here about an hour ago and cleared things up for me," Bobby added. He tried to bury the statement under a nonchalant sip of his flask.

Dean gripped the bridge of his nose so hard that he could have broken it if he tried. He wasn't sure this could even be happening. Damn it all, he was gonna _strangle_ that angel. His thoughts were moving drunkenly, like he was too blindsided by the ease with which Bobby was talking about Dean's gay relationship with a celestial being.

"So," Dean said after some time, "Sam doesn't know, does he?"

"Nah," Bobby said. "Castiel wouldn't even 'a told _me_ unless I threatened him."

Dean moved his hand away from his face. "You threatened him?"

The corner of Bobby's mouth quirked upward into an oddly amused grin. "Aw, look at you bein' all concerned and what-not."

"Shut up."

Bobby chuckled quietly. "I just gave him a choice: tell me where exactly the two of you were last night, or spend the better part of the rest of the apocalypse in a ring of holy oil."

"You're wicked, man." Dean allowed himself a weak laugh. "So Cas just _told_ you, then?"

"Told me a little more than I wanted to know, actually. Didn't really need to know how flexible you are." Bobby drained the rest of his flask while Dean sat there in silence, part mortified and part bewildered. "Anyhow," Bobby said, clearing his throat. "You should git to tellin' Sam about" – he waved his hand in the air, gesturing to all of Dean – "all of _this_."

Dean shook his head, sighing again. "Yeah, alright." He brought his hand to his mouth and absently ran his tooth under his thumbnail. "So, uh, Bobby, you're okay with, y'know, everything?"

Bobby rolled his eyes, grunting. "Boy, I don't give a damn who you're foolin' around with. Just so long as you know what you're getting yourself into. He's an _angel_, Dean, not some dive bar cocktail waitress. Just be careful, all right?" Bobby came around the other side of the table, clapping Dean on the shoulder as he went. Dean heard the wheels of his chair as they move through the back of the house. The back door opened and Dean was alone.

This was odd. No, this was flat-out weird. Suddenly his 'relationship' with Cas seemed washed out, strange. He was seeing it like Bobby might, as an outsider. Maybe it was the dreamlike impossibility of the last five minute's conversation that was giving him the shift in perspective, but Dean didn't like this feeling. What he felt for Castiel was still complicated, multilayered and confusing. He didn't know where this bitch of a rollercoaster was taking him, and it sure as hell wasn't going to do him any good if he went telling Sam all about it. He didn't even want to picture the look on Sam's face when it turned out his big brother admitted to lusting intensely after another guy. Sam wasn't homophobic; in fact, out of the two of them, _Dean_ had always shown signs of homophobia. Dean didn't really consider himself gay, not really. His attraction to Castiel was different; the two of them were connected inseparably by their shared struggles. Maybe Dean was worried that Sam would suspect him of trying to sever the bond that they themselves shared simply because of their blood.

When Dean looked away from the hole he'd been staring into the wall, it was to realize that where Bobby had just been, Castiel now sat.

"Are you better now?" Cas said.

Dean's reaction brought his eyes to the microwave clock again; twenty minutes had passed. He let go of a long breath and shook his head.

"I don't know, man," Dean said. He leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the edge of Bobby's kitchen table. Castiel looked same as ever, although there was a glint in his eye that had been growing in strength since the Oakland County job and now seemed to be reaching its maximum. Dean realized with a bit of shock that the glint in Cas' eye was the same spark that people often saw in his own gaze; maybe he had a deeper influence on the angel than he thought.

"Are you mad at me for telling Bobby?" Castiel said. He looked fixedly at Dean, enough so to make the man slightly uncomfortable and all too aware of how badly he needed a shower.

Dean took a moment before answering. He sighed again, fidgeting with a torn cuticle on his left hand. "No," he said. "I'm not mad at yah. I kinda figured that Bobby would work it out for himself, and if he didn't, I knew you'd tell him eventually." That was only partly true, but Dean had no problem lying to himself. "I'm just glad you haven't told Sam yet."

Cas made a noise in his throat. Dean suspected himself of being laughed at, and he looked sternly up at the angel. Castiel bowed his head, clearing his throat. When his eyes returned, he was expressionless once again. "I knew I should leave that part to you. I know how much you Winchesters love secrets."

Yeah, Dean was definitely being laughed at.

"What is the worst that your brother could do?"

Dean looked up. "What d'you mean?"

Castiel reached across the table and took one of Dean's hands. He ran his thumb over Dean's skin, a soft smile appearing on his face. "If your brother _were_ to discover us, what are the worst possible consequences?"

Dean snorted. "He could call me a freak and walk out."

"Isn't that what you thought Bobby would do?"

"Well, yeah, but Bobby's _Bobby_. Sam's my _brother_, y'know?"

Castiel sighed. He looked suddenly so disappointed that it brought a sick prickling sensation to Dean's chest.

"What?" Dean said, leaning forward slightly.

Cas took a moment to respond. He seemed to be struggling with what to say, or maybe just _how_ to say it. "If you don't want to tell Sam, you don't have to. I cannot make you, and I won't tell him if you don't want me to. He is your brother, and the choice is yours." The angel gave a small nod, as if he had to convince himself of that as well. There was still a strange tugging behind his soft smile.

Dean reached across the table and ran the back of his hand across Castiel's face. The affectionate gesture caught Cas by surprise as much as it did Dean.

"I'll tell him, alright?" the man heard himself say. "It might not be today, but I'll tell him."

Castiel gave a soft chuckle in the back of his throat. He leaned into Dean's touch somewhat, his eyes slipping just barely closed. The knowledge that he was being nuzzled nearly made Dean laugh, but there was something so wonderful about the comfortable way that Castiel was settling against his hand. How, Dean wondered, had they gone from quiet, restrained affection to _this_ in such a short period of time? They used to be so resigned around each other, operating on a purely professional level, acting as soldiers at war – sometimes as friends, but nothing more. Dean grinned, running his thumb along Cas' bottom lip. The angel made a soft sound of content and opened his eyes. All evidence that he'd ever been anything less than happy was gone.

"You're a good man, Dean," Castiel said, his wide blue eyes utterly sincere and unguarded. Dean felt himself shudder. When Cas looked at him like that, it only reminded him that the man he was falling in love with was _not_ a man at all. Cas was something big, something powerful and ancient. It was only by luck that Castiel could even relate to Dean at all; the man wondered then how different his story would be if he'd been rescued by an angel like Uriel or one of those other douche bags.

"Aw you just like me for my looks." Dean smirked, chuckling. He raised a challenging eyebrow at Cas and leaned back in his chair, slinging one arm over the back. Without having to think about it, he'd slipped into the overly-confident side of himself. Only Cas had really seen his more tender persona, and even then it was a struggle to keep that up for too long. No, it was much easier acting like a cocky bastard, and Cas didn't seem to mind.

The corner of Castiel's mouth flicked upward into a grin. "And if that were true?"

"If _that_ were true, then I'd say you were just desperate to get laid." Dean looked Cas over, his eyes drawn to the angel's neck. If he looked closely enough, he could see the faintest remnant of a love bite there. "I mean, you could have picked someone _almost_ as good-looking as me, but way less annoying."

Before Dean had even seen him move, Castiel was pushing Dean's chair back away from the table. The man's breath caught as Cas settled himself lightly on his lap, one hand going to his chest while the other lay across his groin. Castiel's face was a mere breath away from his own.

"You're only annoying because you talk too much." Castiel's eyes were glinting again. His voice was low and rumbling, heavy with a desire that Dean could then feel quite accurately. The angel smirked, looking pretty damn out of normal character but hell if Dean was going to complain. He was starting to learn how much he liked Castiel's new rebellious personality, even if it scared the shit out of him sometimes.

Dean's face felt hot, if only out of surprise and sudden desire. Castiel's weight in his lap was more than enough to wake his arousal. He cast one furtive glance at the stairs and toward the back door of the house. "Cas, we should—"

Castiel silenced Dean with a deft undoing of the man's pants. He teased the skin above the waistband of Dean's boxers with his fingertips, chuckling lowly at the way Dean's weak protest caught in his throat. "Don't worry about Sam and Bobby," the angel said softly in Dean's ear, voice still heavy and earth-shatteringly determined. "They won't come in here until long after we've finished, I promise you that."

Dean didn't doubt him. Having freaky angel powers definitely came in handy when one wanted to get fucked in the kitchen, which seemed to be _exactly_ what Cas planned on doing.

"Well in that case…"

Dean didn't give Castiel the chance to fight him. He stood, dragging Cas with him and moving the angel backward until they hit the far wall of the kitchen. The cabinets rattled; Dean would have been concerned about the noise if not for his complete trust in Castiel's ability to give them privacy. Keeping Castiel firmly against the wall with one hand at his collar bones, Dean kissed his angel with force. Their tongues and lips battled, crashing against each other and moving in hectic unity. When they pulled momentarily away for air, they laughed quietly, grabbing at each other in an effort to remove clothing as quickly as possible.

Amidst soft nips and deep kisses to Dean's neck, Castiel said, "If I'd known that this is how you would respond to my telling Bobby about us, I would have done it sooner, and probably have included Sam as well."

Dean yanked at the angel's hair in retaliation. He pulled Cas away from his neck, pressing him once again against the wall. Somehow, they'd managed to strip each other naked above the waist, and Dean had the inclination to soon rid Cas of his pants. With his hand paused at the angel's waistband, Dean looked him deeply in the eyes. Their furious speed slowed noticeably, and as they looked at each other, the atmosphere grew noticeably softer, momentarily contemplative.

"What's the matter?" Cas said, barely above a whisper. He traced his finger along Dean's jawline, and god damn it, the hunter's responding shiver was almost embarrassing. The slightest touches from Castiel set him off. He'd never been so easily aroused until he started admitting his deeply-run feelings for the angel.

Dean quirked a smile, still holding Castiel's gaze. "Just thinkin'," he said, voice equally quiet. He could feel his voice rumbling in his chest and he cleared his throat. The slight lifting of Cas' eyebrows inquired after Dean's train of thought, and the hunter chuckled weakly. He pressed his lips to the corner of the angel's mouth. "Just thinkin' about what you said, y'know, the first time."

The slight tilt of Castiel's head got Dean wondering if his ability to appear so completely boyish was a result of his vessel's appearance or his own natural personality. Either way, when Cas pulled expressions like that, it damn near made Dean melt inside; and he'd never been the type for cute things before.

"Do you mean," Cas said, "when I told you this is not my true form?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I dunno, I guess I'm just… I dunno if _intimidated_ is the word, or…" He chuckled dryly again, feeling stupid. What was it about this damn angel that got him feeling like a high school kid again?

Castiel had the decency not to laugh out-right, but his small grin was tell-tale enough. He leaned forward to kiss Dean again; soft, short caresses at first that soon grew deeper and more sensual. In between the brief kisses, he said, "Didn't I already say you talk too much, Dean Winchester?"

"You sunnofa—"

With that, Dean caught Castiel in another round of driven, forceful kisses. He didn't hesitate in driving his hand down the front of Castiel's pants and practically forcing them down to the angel's ankles. Castiel gave an off-hand kick of his feet, sending first his shoes and then the pants flying across the room.

Hands moved to memorize lengths of muscled, scarred flesh. Their breath came in erratic bursts, neither of them wanting to be parted from their kiss for any lingering span of time. Dean could feel his need, his lust, growing with every lingering touch that Castiel laid to his chest or the back of his neck. What stirred him the most, however, was when Castiel closed his hand around the burn on his shoulder. The skin there was so hyper-sensitive to the angel's touch, as if it were constantly waiting to be held onto again.

Dean ground his hips unthinkingly against Castiel, who was still pressed very effectively against the kitchen wall. The angel made a noise of discomfort, pulling away from their kiss.

"Pants," Castiel gasped. "Take them off." How could his voice be so commanding even when it was pressed under so many layers of raw, almost human emotion? Dean chuckled softly and did as he was told. His jeans joined Castiel's slacks in some corner of the room.

"Now what?" Dean said, looking back up at Cas. His boxers were mercifully loose against his swollen length, but they did very little in hiding just how much he needed Castiel.

Cas moved his hips against Dean's, as if experimenting with the sensations. Both men gave groans of pleasure at the much-needed friction. "Don't tell me I have to explain this part to you, Dean," Castiel said. Man, this guy was bein' damn sassy today. Who the hell taught him sarcasm, anyway?

Dean wasn't about to let Cas be the assertive one here; his own pride wouldn't allow it. He leaned in close, biting gently at Castiel's ear. He chuckled softly and said, "You wanna be screwed against the wall again, Cas? Is that what you want me to do?"

The angel didn't answer, only tightened his grip on Dean's shoulder. That was answer enough.

Later, when Dean had brain cells left over enough to actually think, he'd wonder when he'd become the kinda guy who could so easily _do_ this sort of thing. Really, it took a different breed of man to just without question fall into whatever sort of desire he wished. People always said Dean was willful – "well fed," as he himself had said before – but really he was a self-preservation kinda guy, at least about the things that mattered. It was no great shakes to go heels-to-Jesus with some no-name barroom slut, but Cas was different. Cas was special. Cas was his hero, his savior, his goddamn _angel_, for crying out loud. But did that stop Dean from hitching Castiel's legs around his waist as he propped him against the wall? No, course not. Did he hesitate at all before sliding himself into the heat of Cas' body? Not really, no.

When Dean had brain cells left to care, he'd wonder if what he was doing was anywhere near the spectrum of morality. The answer would probably be "no," but for the time being, he was too damn in love to give a crap.

**~o~**

To be an angel, one obviously needed to possess a certain amount of self-restraint. Castiel knew that this particular qualification was no longer being met, at least not by him. If that were the reason for his gradual "demotion" from the hierarchy of Heaven, then he with a heavy heart said, "so be it." His visit to Bobby's that morning wasn't supposed to have passed into the realm of sin, desire, lust, or any of the other nouns that could be used to sum up Dean Winchester. Castiel hadn't planned on indulging on the hunter's particular skills, but he should have known that he was no match for the things Dean could do with his tongue.

After they had both had their fill (three times over) of each other, Castiel released his temporary hold on Sam and Bobby's free will, which also meant that he and Dean's time of privacy was over. That didn't stop them from sharing one last kiss before Castiel pulled away and said he had to leave.

"Is everything alright?" Dean said. The worried crease between his eyebrows furrowed, as it always did when he was showing Castiel some sort of concern. It made the angel want to smile; being so well looked-after was an amusing concept, seeing as it was always Dean who got himself into danger.

Castiel nodded. "If you're referring to Zachariah's search for me, don't worry, he isn't anywhere near to finding me yet. I've managed to slip past even his best efforts."

"So far," Dean said, under his breath.

Castiel put a gentle kiss on the man's forehead. It was a ghost of the first kiss of any kind they had shared, back in the motel on their drive to Oakland County. Castiel remembered the bewildered way that Dean had looked at him, and his own resulting humiliation. Waking up in the middle of the night to find Castiel kissing his forehead was not something Dean had been accustomed to.

"Don't use your time worrying about me," Castiel said. He laid a lingering touch to Dean's arm, squeezing gently. "When are you and your brother going to leave here?"

Dean sighed, shrugging as he scratched the back of his head. "Dunno. Sam's probably gonna pull some act like he's all better. We'll probably leave today."

Castiel nodded. "Be sure to call me when you've reached whatever hunt you chose to pursue."

The hunter chuckled, his eyes lingering habitually on Castiel's face. "Will do. Be safe, alright?"

"And you."

The green of Dean's eyes was almost too much. The man's tanned skin set off their color in such a way that Castiel thought he would be lost in Dean's gaze if he lingered there too long. Before he could be trapped into staying any longer, Castiel risked a chaste kiss, letting his lips press as fully as they could against the other man's.

With the sound of phantom wings fluttering, Castiel was gone.

**~o~**

Sure enough, by high noon, Sam was downstairs, declaring himself healed enough to get back on the road. He insisted several times to his brother that he couldn't even feel the break in his ankle anymore, and even if he wasn't totally cured, he could mend just fine during the drive to the next hunt. Dean was skeptical, but the prospect of getting out of the house was a no-fault idea to him.

The Impala was promptly packed, and the boys were sent on their way with a work-up on a poltergeist case out in Tennessee (put together by Bobby as a parting gift). Dean greeted his car with an uncomfortable amount of affection and the two drove off with a merry honk of the horn to bid Bobby good-bye.

"Dude, I am so friggin' glad to be out of there," Dean said. He could barely manage to talk above the roar of the Impala's tires as they sprinted at seventy-five miles an hour down the highway, and boy did it feel good. The grin on his face was almost embarrassing.

Sam laughed. "Well sorry to have put you at such an inconvenience."

Dean would have mentioned that the little "inconvenience" just so happened to have gotten him laid quite thoroughly by one trench coat-wearing angel, but that was still a secret. He settled himself with a subtle laugh, saying, "Oh I managed to keep myself occupied." The innuendo was enough to speak for itself.

"Spare me the details," Sam said with his usual level of mild disgust. "Oh, hey, that reminds me. Did you tell Cas we were leaving today?"

Dean looked over at Sam, almost _gawked_ at him, really. "How did _that_ remind you of Cas?"

Sam shrugged, pulling his fall-back puppy dog face. "Dunno, just did. So, did you call him?"

"Didn't need to," Dean said, rolling his eyes. He reminded himself not to get too defensive. "I talked to Cas this morning while you were still sleepin'. Told him we'd probably be leaving today."

"You did?"

Dean nodded, clearing away a slight tingle in his throat. _Quit it, brain, no need to go on any angel-sex fantasies right now. _"Yeah, he, uh, stopped by."

"To do what?"

"How the hell should I know? Dude's got his own agenda, I don't know. Seemed like he just wanted to chat." Dean tried to sound nonchalant, but that was proving difficult, seeing as just the mention of Castiel's name had him thinking about the angel's lips…lips that not too long ago were wrapped around his dick.

Unfortunately for Dean, Sam was a damn bit too perceptive. It was a trait possessed by the younger Winchester that Dean kept reminding himself to beat out of him. Nevertheless, Sam quirked an eyebrow and said, "Something bothering you, Dean?"

"Shut up, Sammy. Can't you let a guy drive in peace?"

"No," Sam said with the same amount of stubbornness he'd been exhibiting since he was twelve. "Where did you and Cas go last night, Dean? I thought we were gonna work on the self-destructive secret keeping? If you're in trouble – _any_ kind of trouble – you should tell me! I can help, Dean, I'm not useless."

Dean groaned, resisting the urge to slam his head against the steering wheel. "Damn it, Sam, that's not what I think, okay? You're my brother, you're not _useless_."

"So why won't you tell me what you and Cas were doing?"

_Cause I respect your mental health_. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing to God and everyone that he had some beers in the back seat. "Cause it doesn't matter, Sam. Drop it, alright? Since when are you so interested in what Cas does?"

"I just want you to tell me what's going on! Why is that so friggin' hard?"

Dean turned to his brother, ready to spit out another slew of deflecting responses, but the look on Sam's made him pause. Why was keeping this secret so important, anyway? Maybe Cas and Bobby were right; he wasn't giving Sam enough credit. His brother was a smart kid – taller than sin and a bit on the annoying side, but a smart kid. If anything, Dean knew how much his brother cared about him. Being left in the dark was worse than the truth. When Sam was in the dark, he was able to string together any number of terrible things that Dean might be keeping from him. And Sam looked scared. Scared and worried that his big brother might be doing something stupid. Well, screwing with an angel – not to mention a _fugitive_ – was pretty damn stupid, but it wasn't worth all this drama. Really, it was getting kinda exhausting.

Gritting his teeth, Dean checked his rearview mirror. They were one of maybe three cars in sight. He pulled the Impala off to the side of the road, switching off the engine.

If Sam looked nervous before, he looked bat-shit terrified now. Dean knew how that kid's mind worked. He was probably thinking that Dean was gonna tell him something along the lines of, "Turns out I'm not Michael's vessel after all, Sammy. Guess that means I'm goin' back to Hell."

Dean cracked his knuckles, looking fixedly down at the center of the steering wheel. If he stared at that, at anything other than Sam, he could pretend he was talking to himself, and maybe he wouldn't puke. He mentally kicked himself in the nads for acting like such a friggin' girl.

"Dean?" Sam said cautiously. "What is it?"

For a moment, Dean just sat staring at the steering wheel. He said one brief, momentary prayer that Sam wouldn't do anything worse than hit him.

"I…" Dean began. His throat felt too small, like it had been lined with years old strawberry jam. He swallowed past the obstruction. "Sammy, I don't really know how to tell you this, but dammit, I know you'll just nag me back to Hell if I don't."

Beside him, Sam was mercifully silent. If he interrupted, Dean knew he'd just chicken out. He sighed again.

"Sam, I think I-I… I think I'm i-in love wi-with… _dammit_." Dean slammed his hand down on the dash, too frustrated with himself. He killed monsters for a living! Coming out of the closet to his own friggin' brother should not have been worthy of his own special on Jerry Springer.

Dean turned in his seat, looking straight at Sam. His brother's expression was unreadable, but Dean couldn't tell if that was means for comfort or concern. Keeping Sam's eye contact was so much harder than his lingering gazes with Cas; this sort of open, honest connection with his brother was worse than a ten-mile sprint, and just as laborious. It was like he and Sam had enough masks between them to cloak an army.

"I'm in love with Castiel."

The words were not spat, not thrown like some kind of putrid wad of trash that Dean was eager to rid himself of. Although his mind was doing drunken, reeling somersaults, he had somehow managed his confession to remain even and assured. Dean looked over Sam's face, trying to detect if his words had struck home in any of his brother's nerves. There was a slight parting of the younger man's lips, but beyond that, Sam remained stoic. Dean knew that Sam's thoughts were probably just as whirled and stirred as his own, and he allowed his little brother all the time he needed to speak.

A short span of moments passed before Sam opened his mouth once, closing it again. He shifted his too-big body in the suddenly choked confinement of the car.

Sam looked down at his lap, breaking the strange connection of their eyes. His attention was now on his hands, which he curled and flexed, twisting his fingers in anxious fidgeting. They were the only betrayal to any type of emotional response to Dean's confession.

"Love?" When Sam lifted his face to Dean once again, he was squinting slightly as if looking into the sun.

Dean gave a choked laugh. It was a short relief of his pent-up turbulence. "Yeah, Sammy, love. I know it's got about as much sense as takin' a Ken doll to the prom, but hey."

Sam mimicked Dean's dry chuckle. His hands clasped together, motionless in his lap. He took a deep breath in and held it a moment, eyes shifting out through the windshield. Whatever he saw, it made him release the breath slowly. Dean caught sight of a faint smile on his brother's face.

"Cas," Sam said, "does he know?"

"Oh yeah," Dean said, laughing again. "Yeah, he knows."

Sam nodded, glancing back to Dean. "When?"

"When what?"

Sam's grin gained depth, commitment. "When did you decide to roofie Cas' milkshake?"

Dean let out another laugh. "I don't think you're taking this seriously, man. I tell you I've got a thing for an _angel_ – a _guy_ – and all you do is make date rape jokes? Cold, man, real cold."

Well, shit. Here Dean had been twisting his own panties into knots, imagining everything from being left on the side of the road while Sam walked away from him, to being beaten _Brokeback_ _Mountain_-style with a baseball bat. Instead, Sam was reacting in the most Dean-friendly way possible? Well, shit, indeed.

They both chuckled in their own separate thoughts for a moment or two, before Sam cleared his throat, looking over at Dean.

"Seriously, Dean, you _love_ him?"

"Looks that way. I tried not to, man, really, but I can't get myself to stop."

Sam pushed his bangs out of his face, sighing. "No offense, dude, but aren't you a one-hundred percent boob kinda guy? I mean, you've never really _liked_ anything else, much less love."

Dean shrugged. "I stopped tryin' to ask myself why. It's probably got somethin' to do with, y'know, being saved by him or something."

"Not to mention the eye-sex."

"_What_? That just sounds dirty."

Sam laughed, no longer sounding awkward or nervous. It was like chatting with his brother about man-on-man relationships was the least eventful part of his day. "Come on, you know what I'm talking about. You and Cas are always, like, _staring_ at each other. Remember the first time I met him? Back during the Samhain job? Yeah, I thought you guys were gonna throw down and do it right with me and Uriel watching."

"You're a dick."

Sam only shook his head, grinning. He turned to the windshield once again, leaning his head against the passenger's side window.

This conversation probably wasn't over, Dean knew. The first time Sam actually saw him and Cas kiss or something, there'd probably a Saturday Morning Special kinda talk. For the time being, though, Dean had no regrets in starting up the Impala once again and driving away. If he drove fast enough, maybe he'd manage to out-run whatever ramifications were heading his way.


End file.
